Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Colombia and from Mexico City.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979.
I was there at the first Second Layer show in South London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1978.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in London and Bologna.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Winnipeg kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1971 at the first Big Star practice in a loft in Memphis.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Dead Boys to the grunge kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Ossler. All the underground hits.
All Juan Atkins tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Fear record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal rock hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and a synthesizer and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Ultra Naté record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a harpsichord.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a marimba.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Pagans,
48th St. Collective,
Rufus Thomas,
Piero Umiliani,
Television,
Crime,
Niagra,
Freddie Wadling,
Pussy Galore,
Harry Pussy,
The Associates,
Judy Mowatt,
Eve St. Jones,
Slick Rick,
Funkadelic,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Brick,
Underground Resistance,
CMW,
Gang Gang Dance,
Nirvana,
Moby Grape,
MC5,
Pulsallama,
The Sound,
Grandmaster Flash,
The Cowsills,
The Fire Engines,
Eli Mardock,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Rahsaan Roland Kirk,
Gregory Isaacs,
Al Stewart,
Donald Byrd,
The Slits,
Basic Channel,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Fela Kuti,
Kango’s Stein Massive,
Yusef Lateef,
Rakim,
The Cramps,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Sex Pistols,
Kevin Saunderson,
Swans,
H. Thieme,
Gichy Dan,
Reuben Wilson,
Arthur Verocai,
Shuggie Otis,
The Searchers,
Colin Newman,
Dr. Dre and Snoop Doggy Dog,
Arcadia,
Lungfish,
Scratch Acid,
Tropical Tobacco,
Stockholm Monsters,
Subhumans,
Roxy Music,
Bronski Beat,
The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites, The Skatalites.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.